


Angels of a Different Era

by sunflowersandsunshining



Category: Persona 3, Persona Series
Genre: Angels, Angst, Bittersweet, Canonical Character Death, Cute, Dark, Death, F/M, Fire, Fluff, Heaven, Memories, Troubling, content warning for death-violence-some emotionally rough stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-10-06 02:10:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17336705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowersandsunshining/pseuds/sunflowersandsunshining
Summary: Memory is a fickle thing. It can be given, and it can be taken away.He's going to take it back.





	1. Memento Mori

He ran his hands against the cool white walls, taking his time feeling every etch that had been left by the people before him.

He had never thought that he’d see the pearly gates, but there he was, reading the graffiti left behind by all the people who had passed. Ages of images, words, quotes, all left by people who had come before him. A few stuck out to him - “we’ll meet again”, “I love you big bro”, and “tell my mom I’m sorry.” 

His head was spinning with questions, not the least of which was “how the fuck did I end up here?” He had lived his entire life thinking that Heaven and God weren’t real, and even if they were real, there was no way in hell he’d end up actually making it the cut. 

But there he was.

“Pray tell, what’s your name?” A soft voice broke him out of his thoughts. He turned to face a young woman, no older than twenty, holding a large blue tome of some sort. Her hair was short and well-kempt, shining bright white under the sun above. 

And he blinked.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh dear. Were you passed with a hit to the head?” She chuckled gently. “No, please. We’re on a tight schedule here.”

“I told you. I don’t remember.” He huffed, frowning. “Am I dreaming?”

“No, honey.” The woman’s face turned grim. “I’m sorry. It seems you’ve passed.”

“Passed? What the hell does that even mean?” he said loudly, fighting back tears. He knew what it meant. He had the feeling that he had been ready for death before he got there, and he thought he was okay with it, but he had been wrong.

“You’re in Heaven, angel.”

His face paled.

“No, I have things to do... No, no, no.” His thoughts flashed back to her face, her smiling, shining face. He knew he couldn’t leave her behind. But who was she? 

“I’m sorry hun. You’re passed now. They’ll have to live without you.” She squinted. “Do you remember your life? Someone close to you?” 

“Her. Her,” he whispered, light tears streaming down his face for the first time he could remember. “She’s smiling, she’s got these red eyes, red... No, but, she… her hair...” He trailed off, wiping his face sloppily with his heavy sleeve. “I don’t know her name.”

She was his only memory. A girl, shorter than him, with ruby red eyes, her smile shining like the moon in the night sky. She was all he had. 

“Oh dear.” The lady shook her head, putting a hand on his shoulder before pointing to a booth nearby. “They’ll help you. Just go and tell them your situation. God be with you, vale.”

Dejected, he followed her directions and explained the situation to a tall man at the desk. 

“I don’t have your face in my book,” the man sighed, shutting an even larger tome behind the desk with a resounding thump. “And you’re sure you don’t remember your name?” 

“Yeah. I’m… sorry.” 

“I’m sorry sir. I’ll have to speak with the big guy about this.” The man shook his head, picking up a phone from behind the booth. 

What followed was a long conversation between the man behind the counter and someone on the line, some yelling, some huffing and an eventual “yes, Sire” before turning back to him. 

“You’ll have to talk to the guy in charge about this. Continue through there.” He pointed to a golden gate separated from the main white ones, and waved me off. “Heaven protect you. Vale.”

As he entered the gates, a feeling of peace suddenly engulfed his body. It was a familiar feeling, but he didn’t know from where and when he stepped forward, a small figure materialized in front of him. It was a little girl with white blonde hair, sitting contently on the ground. He walked forward and she beckoned him to her with a smile.

“Hello, my child.” She said softly. “I see you’re in a predicament.”

“Yeah.” He responded, scratching his neck awkwardly. “Who are you?”

“That’s not really important, is it?” She grinned. “What’s more important is who you are.”

“Do you know?” 

“Yes.” The girl nodded with a small chuckle. 

There was a pause before he responded. “Then… who am I?”

“You’ll have to find that out, my child,” She stated. “You’ll soon know everything.”

Before he could open his mouth to respond, he found himself in a dark room. He could hear soft breathing next to him, punctuated by the moonlight streaming in from a single window behind his head. 

He felt smaller; weaker. In a moment, the sun was rising, and the breathing next to him jolted up.

“Shinji,” a boy’s voice mumbled. “Go back to sleep…”


	2. La Terre s’est Mise en Feu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Earth set itself on fire.

“It’s time to get up, Aki.” The words came from his throat as naturally as any other, despite the unfamiliar feel of the sounds. Shinji now knew his name, or at least part of it, but it felt unnatural. It didn’t carry any meaning to him yet, like it was just another word; another thing that confounded his weak memory.

“Nobody’s going to be up for hours!” the boy beside him complained. “What’s your problem?” Aki pouted, and it became clear to Shinji that the two of them were only children. He looked to his hands, confirming his suspicions: they were tiny, just like the rest of him, and he felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness, but he didn't know why. 

“Psh. Suit yourself.” He said as his body climbed out of bed. He felt clunky and unnatural; his movements felt forced, like he were a puppet on a string. But even so, it still felt oddly familiar. 

“Wait, no, okay,” Aki responded. “I’m coming. But don’t you dare wake up Miki. She needs her rest.” 

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Shinji huffed, his body automatically beginning its way towards the door of the room. 

The pair of small feet wandered out of the corridor outside their room, finding themselves alone in the morning twilight. Nobody else was awake, and Shinji knew they had to be quiet. 

The pair made their way outside of their home, and as Shinji looked back, he knew immediately what it was - a small, tiny piece of his memory came back to him. The orphanage. The orphanage and…

“Shinji, come on!” Aki yelled, pulling him along. 

“Idiot! You're gonna get us caught!” He felt himself say quietly. 

The younger boy just stuck out his tongue at him with a grin. “I know what you are, but what am I?” Aki jeered, playfully punching him. The sensation felt fuzzy, like TV static in his body; it sent waves of soft pain throughout his tiny frame. He felt himself get angry even though he knew it was childish. 

Shinji's face contorted itself into a frown, his body now fully acting on its own, and he could only watch as he landed a jab straight in Aki's stomach, sending him backwards with a stagger. 

“Hey! What's your problem?!” Aki sputtered breathlessly. 

“You started it!” He felt silly. It was a stupid argument, by stupid children, but Shinji couldn’t enjoy it for what it was. He was overcome by dread, a familiar sense of dread - one word came to his head: Death. Capitalized, like a proper noun. But what did that mean? What did any of this mean? What was any of this?

Before he could finish his thoughts, there was a crash behind them. They felt heat suddenly beat against their backs, and the air suddenly filled with screams, mixed between children and adults, all filled with panic. 

“Fire!” a shrill voice yelled. 

“Stay calm! Stay calm!” another, older one cried. 

“What?!” Aki stammered. “But Miki's--” 

Another feeling came rushing over Shinji, an all too familiar one: pain mixed with guilt, fully realized as he knew what was going to happen. 

But despite himself, he found himself screaming back: “We have to save her!” The pair bolted to the front door, absolutely determined to rescue their sister. The doors to the orphanage swung open and toxic smoke billowed out from inside. The pair looked to each other, nodded, and--

“What do you think you’re doing?!” A feminine voice screamed. 

They were pulled out of their moment by their pajama collars. 

Shinji remembered it, now: Miki never escaped, and Aki never forgave himself for it. Neither of them did. The pair were racked with guilt over her death; in that moment, he felt like he was the one who was engulfed in flames, his body burning itself up with his own pain. 

It felt like he was burning. Burning up, flaming, shining like a terrible supernova, before--

Nothing. 

He blinked. Shinji was back in front of the little girl, who he now recognized as Miki herself.

“Welcome back.” She smiled.


	3. Death, Capitalized

“What the fuck was that?” Shinji whispered hoarsely. Although he couldn’t feel the physical pain anymore, the remnants of that day were like shattered glass in his brain. He could never quite clean them all up; there were always going to be tiny rips from that day stuck in his mind.

“I’m sorry.” The girl said, shaking her head. “But you must remember your truth, Shinjiro.”

That name-- 

“Aragaki! Stay focused!”

He blinked. He looked up to see that the sky was black, the moon hanging solemnly in the sky. He was in a back alley with two other people, a redhead and who he recognized as Aki, the silver-haired boy from the orphanage all grown up. He identified them as friends, despite not remembering their faces. 

“Shinji, are you okay?” Aki chimed in, sounding foreign yet familiar. “Come on man, we can’t be distracted.”

“Yeah…” Shinjiro responded, rubbing his temples. He felt his puppet strings loosen, but they remained; he knew he had more control, but for some reason, he was still on edge. 

Aki spoke again, this time turning to the redhead. “Mitsuru, are there any signs of shadows?”

She shook her head and looked back to Shinjiro. “Don’t lose your cool. You know what could happen.” She said grimly.

“Yeah.” Shinjiro nodded, looking down to his feet. He could tell he was much older now; at least in his teens. He felt taller, and physically stronger, but for some reason, he had retained that sense of helplessness from when he was a child.

“We’ll wrap up soon.” The girl, he presumed her name was Mitsuru, said. “Don’t get--”

Before she could finish her sentence, the trio heard a shriek break through the night. “Help! Help!”

A woman and her child were running towards them, chased by a void of darkness that resembled a puddle with long, sharp claws sticking out of it. Shinjiro felt his heartbeat quicken at the sight of them; adrenaline pumped through his limbs, sending him into overdrive.

“Help!” The child yelled. Shinjiro got the feeling that this child was important to him, but he didn’t know why.

“Aragaki! The shadow!” He heard Mitsuru yell.

“Shinji! Go! We’ll handle the kid!” Aki’s voice echoed in his eardrums.

“--gaki!” 

“What are you--”

He felt his lungs light on fire. He could feel his throat closing in on itself, trapping the flames in his chest - he felt like he was going to expand, explode, and collapse into a black hole. He couldn’t breathe, move, think - all he could feel was pain. 

Something burst out of him, a part of him that he felt he knew intimately but he had since forgotten - it was choking him, uncontrollably, until--

“No!” he heard, far, far away. It sounded like a woman’s voice. “No, please!”

His eyes grew wide as he felt his hands grip and crush something, although when he looked down he was holding nothing. The fire snuffed out, and he gasped for air, coughing like his lungs were gone.

When he finally looked up, he found ruin.

Mitsuru and Aki stood hands up in a corner, protecting the child with their bodies. The mother, however, wasn’t so lucky, and had been killed by the Shadow. Why were they looking at him like that then? He had killed the shadow, just like he was supposed to.

“Shinji, what--” Aki sputtered. “What… why…?”

“What?” He grunted back, frowning. 

“He lost control of his persona,” Mitsuru said, her voice trembling. “Akihiko, it’s not his fault.”

“How do you know?!” Aki spat back. “He just-- Shinji, how could you?!”

“How could I what?” Shinjiro blinked. “I…” He looked down again and saw it. 

The mother’s corpse laid stretch out in front of him, his hands coated in her blood. He suddenly realized that all of this was his fault. He knew what had happened: he had lost control of himself. He didn’t quite understand it, but he knew it.

A small sniffle broke his thoughts. Shinjiro turned, and saw the child stepping forward past his friends. 

“Y-you killed her…” the kid sniffled. “You… why?”

“I-” Shinjiro tried to reply, but the words wouldn’t come out of his throat. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move.

“You murderer!” The boy yelled. “MURDERER!”

Those words echoed through his head, like a scream in an empty gym, like a child yelling for their mother.

Like a child yelling for their mother.


	4. Mitsuru, Beef Bowls, and Cocaine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beef bowls just don't taste the same with the aftertaste of drugs in your throat.

The wind picked up like a typhoon, and suddenly Shinjiro found himself somewhere completely different: sitting in a restaurant booth with Akihiko and Mitsuru. He finally could remember their faces, but when he looked to them, it almost seemed like their bodies were blurred, like a mirror smudged by rain.

Something about this memory was different. For the first time, Shinjiro felt a small sense of comfort - of safety. He felt in control. 

But it still felt… awkward.

“You gonna eat that?” Akihiko said, elbowing him with a grin. “I need that protein, you know.”

“Don’t you dare.” He felt himself grumble with a small smile. The first smile he could even remember.

“Aw, c’mon, Shinji.” Akihiko replied before turning his attention to the redhead across the table. “But man, we’re gonna be seniors next year. By the way, what are you taking for your elective, Mitsuru?”

“Advanced French.” She shrugged, delicately taking a bite of her beef bowl. “I’m going to run for student council, too.”

“Man, you’re insane.” Shinjiro felt himself say to her. “Don’t run yourself ragged.” 

Mitsuru laughed at that. A dainty, soft laugh that made him happy. Happiness. What a strange feeling. 

She focused her eyes on Shinjiro and smiled. “I won’t. Thank you for your concern, Shinjiro-san. ...What about you?” Her eyes were piercing, and the question made him feel a profound sense of discomfort.

“Yeah.” Shinjiro grunted in reply. He immediately avoided her gaze, trying to change the subject. “Aki, can I have some of that?”

“Don’t dodge the question.” Mitsuru said. Her voice was gentle, but firm. “We’ve been worried about you ever since you left.” 

“Then stop worrying about me.” Shinjiro responded harshly. 

“Shinji…” Akihiko whispered, looking to him sadly. “I don’t want to see you come home in a body bag, you know! You need to come back!”

“Is this what this was about?” He replied, sighing. “And here I thought…”

“Please, Shinjiro-san.” Mitsuru chimed in softly. “We want the best for you.”

“No, you want to clear your conscious,” Shinjiro growled. “I’m fine. Worry about your damn selves.” He got up abruptly, pushing away his plate before walking out of the restaurant.

He heard his friends calling out to him, and part of him wanted to scream and run back into their arms, but too much of him pulled forward. He felt terrible. But he knew something was waiting for him--

“Ah, it’s my favorite little addict.” 

A familiar pale face greeted him as he exited the diner into a back alley. The geography seemed off, even with his fragile memory, like two places had melted together in the great pot of his mind.

“What do you want?” He felt himself mumble. 

“It’s not about what I want,” the man replied. “Isn’t this all about you?”

“Look, just give it to me.” Shinjiro didn’t want it. He didn’t want whatever this man was going to give him. He knew it was bad for him; in almost every bone, he felt a desire to run far, far away; but his mouth formed different words. “I don’t need the bullshit.”

“Oh, Shinjiro-san, you’re always so serious.” The man came in close and touched his face in a mocking cupping motion. He flinched. Shinji wasn’t used to the physical touch. “Here. You know how much you owe me.” The man handed him a bottle of pills, and as Shinjiro laid his hands on them, he felt like screaming, yelling, fleeing - he wanted to get away from them. But his hand gripped the bottle tightly, defying his every desire.

“Thanks.” He thrust some money into the man’s hand, pulling away from his grasp. “Don’t fucking touch me again.”

He felt himself walking away, shoving a handful of the tiny black medicine into his mouth hungrily. His body felt numb, cold; he pulled his jacket tight to his form, but the chill only seemed to worsen. He felt like the wind, formless, static, frozen - like he might just get blown away. 

Shinjiro didn’t know why, but his body found itself creeping back into the beef bowl diner. His feet moved on their own - back inside to the same spot, dusty sunlight now streaming in through shuddered blinds. Despite the sun, though, the familiar warmth had gone; so had his friends.

He was alone.

The diner was bustling: lunch rush. He was surrounded by people.

But he was still alone.


	5. Some Girls Just Can't be Forgotten

Shinjiro got up and left the diner directly into a hospital room. 

He knew he was in some sort of a dream state, but the transition was still jarring. He wondered why he was there, but as soon as he spotted Akihiko, he knew why.

His friend was solid now. Shinjiro could look at him directly and see his whole form, his whole body, from the Gekkoukan styled uniform to the bandages limply stuck to his forehead. Shinjiro knew each of his features like the back of his hand.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Akihiko managed a strained laugh. “It’s good to see you.”

“Tch,” he bit back a smile. “What did you need, Aki?”

“About the Apathy Syndrome patients…” Akihiko’s words melted into the afternoon sunlight, his sentences merging together like watercolors on heavy paper. “...new members,” Yellow... “dark-- hour…” Orange… “She’s like you,” Red... “Together now.” Purple... “I want you to come back.” Black.

“Aki…” he said quietly. “I can’t. I’ve told you.” 

“Please, Shinji,” Akihiko took a stride across the room towards him. “We need you now, more than ever.”

“I--”

“Sanada-san, can I speak to you for a moment?” A doctor poked his head in and motioned for Akihiko silently. 

“Of course,” Aki got up and looked Shinjiro directly in the eyes. “Don’t go anywhere.”

It probably didn’t seem like a threat in his head, but it sure sounded like one, Shinjiro thought.

The door closed loudly, and as soon as it was shut, it seemed to immediately open again. But it wasn’t Akihiko who entered.

Three teenagers, two girls and a boy, walked in instead. They seemed familiar, strangely enough, but like before, their bodies were fuzzy, almost; like they were covered in fog. 

Except for one.

One of the girls, the shorter one, who had tied-up brown hair and piercing red eyes looked straight at him and smiled. She seemed kind, loyal. The type of person who likes your dogs even if she’s a cat person. Something about her was different. Something about her-- 

“Uh… is… this Akihiko-senpai’s room?” The boy said suddenly.

Shinjiro blinked, trying and failing to focus his eyes on the teenager. “He’s--”

The door opened again, and Aki made his way in once more.

Just like before, his words seemed to blur together, sand being washed away by the ocean’s cool waves. Like he was being washed away.

“--ji?” Aki’s voice called. “Shinji?”

He blinked, and the strangers were gone.

“Shinji, are you alright?” His friend’s voice rang through Shinjiro’s mind again. “Hey, when can I see you again?”

“Uh…” He shook his head in reply, trying to find his bearings. “Who… who was she?” Those last words faded off his tongue, choked out by his own insecurity. 

“Which one? Minako? She’s our new leader,” Aki responded gently. “a lot’s changed since you left.”

“Oh.” He grunted, trying to find the words to respond. “I… gotta go. I’ll… I’ll see you later.”

“What? But--” Aki tried to grip Shinjiro’s sleeve, but he slipped through the door into a different memory before he could be caught. 

Shinjiro walked out of the room directly into a back alley.

Up ahead, he saw a group of punks harassing some poor chumps who had wandered into the lion’s den. But for some reason, Shinjiro felt pulled to them, like the scene was a black hole, and then he realized why.

Minako. She was stuck in the middle of it.

And he was going to save her.

He rushed in, a bull seeing red, ready to strike. 

“What are you doing?” One of the ruffians snorted. “What, are you their friend, Shinjiro?”

“Don’t touch them.” Shinjiro growled. He really meant to say “her,” but he didn't know it at the time.

“Who do you think you are, dumbass?” The boy snarled. “You think you’re going home alive?”

Before he could respond, the thug made a swift move, a poor attempt at a punch. But his body, his fragile, puppet body dodged like it was nothing, swiftly headbutting the boy in rebuttal without a second thought.

“Shit! Let’s get out of here!” The punk said, panic raising in his voice. His peers mocked him, but they all soon cleared out, leaving Minako and her friends in their wake.

Minako’s male friend was the first to speak. “Oh man, Senpai, that was awesome!” He said, the words melting and fading away again. Dammit, why did this keep happening? He didn’t want to lose these memories. He didn’t want to lose her. He didn’t…

“Thank you, Senpai.” Her voice cut through his thoughts and sent warmth through his core. It warmed his stony, frigid core, his core as cold and inky as the dark side of the moon. 

“N-no problem,” Shinjiro felt himself stumble over his words for the first time. What was this? Who was the girl? And why did she have such power over him? “Don’t come here again, got it?”

Minako nodded. “You’re very kind.” She added, before pulling her friends away into the night.

Kind, huh?

He didn’t believe it.


	6. Welcome Home

But then there he was, unpacking his things in the dormitory once again. 

Her face wouldn’t leave his mind. He remembered talking to Aki and Minako one more time after the encounter in the alleyway, but as he stepped out into the street, all Shinjiro could find was the looming, lonely dormitory staring back at him.

He knew he had to go back.

And he was welcomed with open arms.

Aki introduced him to all of the new underclassmen who had joined since he left. One of the newbies named Fuuka made him “Welcome home!” cookies that more resembled coal. Another one, Junpei, offered to share his video games with him. Even the dog they had taken in seemed happy to see him.

As soon as he stepped in the door with his tiny shopping bag of belongings, Mitsuru offered him a trip to the local furniture shop to liven up his room. “I’ll cover it,” she insisted, smiling. “A welcome back present.” Even Aki all but forced himself into Shinjiro’s unpacking process. 

The group had welcomed another new member not long before Shinjiro arrived: Ken. Shinjiro didn’t know why, but looking at Ken was like looking at a dying animal. A strange sort of guilt welled up inside him, like he was the car that hit the roadkill. 

And then Ken told him that his mother had died.

And it clicked.

He was the car that had hit the roadkill.

Time became even more confused, dark moonlight bleeding into sunny days as Shinjiro sat in his room, clinging to himself. He didn’t want to go out. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He just wanted to fall away and disappear. The sky outside changed from shades of pale blue to complete darkness to a sickly green, and there he remained, stagnant. 

Aki rapped on his door, once, twice, thrice. Nothing. Four times. Five. Six. He could feel Aki’s frustration mounting as his knocks became more and more hurried.

“Shinji, please,” his voice rasped. “We need you.”

No, you don’t, Shinjiro thought to himself. 

“Go away.” He managed to say in response. 

“She wants to talk with you,” Aki said quietly. “she wants to meet you.”

Despite himself, he got up, brushed away his tears and opened the door, dead eyes staring right through his friend’s bleak face. 

Aki nodded, a smile playing at his tired lips as he practically pulled Shinjiro downstairs into the lobby. 

“Was this just a ploy to get me to hang out with you?” Shinjiro sighed.

Before he could get his answer, Minako appeared in front of the pair, beaming her characteristic smile at them.

“Senpai!” She gasped, holding up her hand. “High-five! I’m so glad to see you!” 

His body gave her a half-hearted low five in response. He tried to fight it, he tried to make his puppet do more, be more, show her his enthusiasm - 

Why couldn’t he? He wanted to scream, he wanted a break from this, he wanted to go back to that girl who wore Miki’s face and yell at her and stomp his feet and smash something. He wanted to do so, so many things. 

So many things that he probably didn’t deserve, he thought. 

“Senpai!” Minako chirped. “I haven’t seen you all day! Have you even eaten? Let’s go get you something to munch on!”

“That’s not--” He tried to protest, but thankfully, Minako didn’t want to hear it as she dragged him off out of the dorm and directly into some fast-food restaurant. 

“Okay, Senpai, I’ll go find us a seat!” She giggled, handing him a small coin pouch in the shape of a panda head. “Get whatever you’d like! My treat!”

He blinked, and she was gone, trying out some chairs over in the corner to find the most comfortable booth seat. Second table from the corner, Mina, that one was always your favorite, you idiot, have you forgotten?

There he was, acting like he could say anything about forgetting things, considering his circumstance. 

He looked to the menu and scanned it for anything resembling something healthy. When he found nothing, he sighed, settling for the next best thing: her usual, cheeseburger with extra cheese and two orders of fries on the side. Large soda. No salt, because, as Minako put it, “that means they’re extra fresh!” 

Why did he know all this?

He felt bad using her money until he actually opened the pouch - dozens of thousand yen bills were stuffed haphazardly in it. That’s right, he thought. The one good part of Tartarus - the monsters carried tons of money. 

By the time he got the food, Minako had settled in her favorite seat with a smile painted on her face.  
Shinjiro had the choice of sitting next to her, or across from her - to his dismay, his puppet chose the latter. 

“Thank you, Senpai!” She hummed, picking at her fries happily. “Hey, how’d you know I get these without salt? Wow, Senpai, you’re amazing!”

“Oh, I, uh…” He felt his cheeks grow warm. Were his memories supposed to be this happy? “I just had a feeling.”

“Thank you,” she giggled. “You’re very kind, Shinjiro-senpai.”

“...I ain’t.” He said quietly, picking up one of her fries and eating it. Despite his fuzzy feelings, he still was able to feel a stinging cut in his mouth from a recent fight he had picked with Akihiko. 

Wait, he didn’t remember that part. He had fought with Aki?

“Are you okay?” Minako tilted her head, fluttering her eyes at him. 

“Just a cut,” he felt himself say. “Sheesh… Aki doesn’t know his own strength.”

“Were you two fighting?” She asked quietly. 

“Well… yeah.” He shifted in his seat, avoiding her gaze. “I told him he’s too reckless, and, well… this is what I got in return.” He felt himself laugh gently, a smile playing on his lips.

“Please try not to fight him,” Minako said gently. “I don’t want to see you or him get hurt.”

“We get in fights all the time,” Shinjiro mumbled. “but I’ll give it a shot.”

“Do you need a band-aid?” She asked, her smile returning to her face.

“N-no,” He laughed, taking another fry from her plate. “I-... I’ll be okay.” 

“Okay.” She nodded. “Did you and Akihiko always used to fight?”

“...yeah. One time he punched me so hard I couldn't eat for weeks.” He felt himself laughing, nostalgia filling his body. 

“Why did he punch you that time?” Minako blinked, her curiosity warming his heart. 

“I forget. We were kids.” He smiled, looking down at his hands. Suddenly, all the food was gone, like time had skipped a beat, and Minako was looking to him with a smile. “We should be getting back, soon,” he felt himself saying.

“Well, shall we?” She beamed, standing up excitedly. “Ohhh… stood up too fast!” She giggled, doing a little twirl before turning back to him. 

Shinjiro tried to fight against his puppet and grab her hand, but to his disappointment, it didn't budge. Instead, they walked back towards the dorm, Minako planted at his side, still too far for his liking.

Even still, he was sure that his return to the dorm was the correct decision.


	7. Belonging With Misfits

As the pair re-entered the dorm, Shinjiro was immediately accosted by Fuuka holding a giant cookbook out to him.

He didn't quite know how he knew, but he was sure a week had passed as they crossed the threshold into the dorm. 

“...huh?” He blinked.

Fuuka looked to him and said, without taking a breath: “Please help me cook! I saw you watching the Chef network the other day and I really want to cook with you, Senpai! Please!” 

Wait, he could cook?

“I, uh, I really can’t--” He stammered, looking to Minako with pleading eyes.

“I think that would be so much fun!” Minako giggled, pulling Shinjiro to the dormitory kitchen.

He wanted to make an excuse, or decline outright, but his body physically refused anything of the sort. Instead, he deftly picked up a kitchen knife and started to prepare his ingredients.

“Shinjiro-senpai, let’s make food for everyone!” Fuuka said suddenly, joining him in the cramped space. 

“What? No, that’s too much,” he sighed, trying to find a way around her demands. “We need to focus on your--”

“I think that’s a great idea!” Minako chirped, and as Shinjiro saw her smile, he melted into her request. 

“Well, it can’t hurt, as long as you can keep up,” he croaked. “but don’t get too excited.”

He turned to help Fuuka prepare the dinner, time slipping away as he taught her the bare basics of cooking. He occasionally sneaked glances at Minako’s shining face behind him, drunk on her presence; Mina was like a little sun, sitting at that little table, warming up his entire cold little world. 

Before he knew it, he had made a three course meal, despite the handicap named Fuuka.

He had also found that he set aside a plate with specially made food that suited Minako’s limited tastes. Oh, Mina, he thought. It’s not good to be picky.

“Shinjiro…” Minako looked to the food, and then to him, her smile so bright it might just radiate heat. 

“This one’s for you,” he said, bringing her plate to her specifically. “Go get the others, will you?”

“How did you…” She looked at him with amazement. “How… did you know…?”

“Chef’s intuition.” A smile slipped from his lips before he returned to the kitchen to serve the rest of the food. “Make sure to get Ken, too, okay? He should still be awake.” 

“Of course,” Fuuka chimed in, rushing away to grab their dorm mates.

“Wow…” Minako blinked. “I can’t believe this, Shinjiro-senpai. This is amazing.” 

“Oh, uh…” He reached to scratch his neck. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Nothing?! Look at this!” She gestured to the mountains of food piled up on the table. “Even if this all tasted horrible, the effort alone is… is…” She struggled to find her words, frowning at herself. “...is… um… amazing!”

He laughed, a genuine laugh, a hearty laugh that left him craving more of the same. He hadn’t laughed like that for years, he thought. Although, what did a year even feel like?

“Senpai!” called a familiar voice.

“Shinji! Did you…” Aki breathed, standing frozen halfway down the stairwell.

“Aragaki, this is simply amazing,” Mitsuru finished for him. 

All of his dorm mates - no, his friends - came rushing down, all cheering and praising him for his works. Shinjiro felt proud of himself, smiles sneaking onto his face as he watched everyone eat to their heart’s content. It was satisfying to see them get a good, healthy meal, something Shinjiro himself had been deprived of for years.

He wanted to give them the future they deserved, the food they deserved, the life they deserved. He never included himself in that.

“Thank you so much,” Fuuka laughed, picking at the remains of her rice. “you have a good heart, Senpai.”  
“Aww, is he blushing?” Minako beamed, rising from her chair and poking him from across the table. “Oooh, Senpai, you know it’s true!”

No, it’s not, he thought impulsively. It’s what I should do. There’s no kindness in that.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes as he shoved some fried dish into his mouth.

As the conversation continued, Shinjiro noticed a small pair of eyes staring into him. It felt like they could see right through his body. After a bit, he found the culprit: Ken, shyly eating without joining in the banter. As soon as the talking died down a bit, he spoke: 

“Thank you, Shinjiro-san.”

“Yeah, ‘course.” Shinjiro replied, his gaze downcast.

Eventually, everyone had shuffled back to their rooms, except for Minako and Shinjiro, leaving the two alone to clean up the mess left behind. It was well into the night by that point, although it was hard to tell in these jumbled up memories, Shinjiro thought to himself.

Minako insisted on helping him wash the dishes, so there they were, trying to clean dozens of dirty plates in a tiny dorm sink with limited supplies.

It didn’t help that Minako kept splashing him with water, either. 

“Hand me the dish soap,” he mumbled, working on a particularly bad tomato sauce stain. “and a sponge, too.”

Minako laughed as she handed him both. “Do you ever stop working, Senpai?”

“Huh?”

“You made us dinner, you cleaned the dishes, you take care of us…” She said, a dopey smile on her face. “I admire that, y’know.”

“Oh, well…” He stammered - it was his turn to be at a loss for words. “You’re our leader, so I… I want to make sure you’re okay,” he said eventually. 

“That’s my job!” She laughed, sticking her tongue out at him. “We should really get these done, though, it’s late and…” she punctuated her sentence with a yawn. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “...Do you get enough sleep?”

“I get at least three hours a night!” She beamed, clasping her hands together happily. “Last night I slept for a whole six hours, and I was so, so proud!”

“Oh, no you don’t. Go to bed. Now. I’ll finish the rest of these.”


	8. Remember Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reliving your most important memories one-by-one can really take a lot out of you, it turns out.

As soon as Shinjiro finished the dishes, he was more than ready for a break.

Reliving your most important memories one-by-one can really take a lot out of you, it turns out, and he was ready to take a good nap by the end of those chores.

But he didn’t.

The blackness outside the window melted into a gentle blue, and another memory began. _Great,_ he thought. _Guess I don’t have any good memories of sleeping, huh?_

But then Minako came bouncing down the stairs, her PJs still on and her hair sloppily done into her trademark bun. 

And suddenly he was glad he didn’t have those memories. 

“Senpai! Early riser, huh?” She giggled, bumbling into the kitchen where he stood, haggered.

“Yeah,” despite his fatigue, he managed a small smile for her. “Coffee?”

“Hot chocolate?” She squeaked, biting her lip. 

“I’ll figure something out, sure,” Shinjiro replied gently, resisting the urge to break into a grin. 

“Thank you!” She sniffled, taking a seat at the table while she waited. 

He searched the kitchen for the ingredients, eventually salvaging a small packet of cocoa powder for the drink. He managed to make something resembling hot chocolate, praying that the whipped cream on top wasn’t expired. Sheesh, who stocked this fridge, anyways?

“Shinjiro…” Minako hummed, taking her drink happily. “You’re… something else.”

“I ain’t anything special,” he responded gruffly. 

“...hey, are you busy today?” She said suddenly, a smile creeping onto her face.

"No." was his immediate response.

“There’s the film festival today, if you wanna go with me,” Minako beamed. He could trace the crinkles of her smile in his mind, her face perfectly mapped in his head; he remembered every freckle, her one-sided dimple…

But why? Why did he know these things? 

“Sure.” He nodded. “When does it start?”

She looked at her phone, and then to him. “In ten minutes.” 

“Minako…” The word came out in two syllables, the second one added like a second thought as he shook his head at her. “Alright, let’s go.”

They exited the dorm directly into the movie theater. God, why did his memories have to be so jarring?

“Phew! We just barely made it! Thank God there’s trailers, huh, Senpai?” Minako smiled, nudging him in the arm as they took their seats. 

Different stories of animals flashed on screen, from pomeranians surviving snow storms to pit bulls escaping abusive households. Minako clung to his arm several times throughout the movie as if it were a horror film, yelping at any scenes with any kind of sudden movement in them. He couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. 

The film eventually culminated in a dog being swept away by a rushing stream, and he thought Minako was going to crush his arm with how hard she held it. Shinjiro felt hot, salty tears run down his cheeks, a strange sense of familiarity in the dog’s story - which confounded his damaged memories.

“Senpai, it’s time to go,” Minako said gently, her soft hand still holding his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he responded as he stood up, slightly impeded by his shaky legs. “Do you… wanna get something to eat? We can get some ice cream, my treat.” He said as they walked out of the theater into the busy summer light. 

“I’d love that.” She responded with a beam of sunshine, finally releasing him from her death grip.

And like that, they were sitting on a park bench, ice creams in hand, chatting about nothing.

“...and then Junpei, he said, let’s go in our school uniforms,” Minako giggled, ice cream dripping into her lap. “Can you believe that?”  
“No,” Shinjiro smiled, trying to keep his melting treat off of his hands. “What an idiot.”

“I was the one who said yes to it!” Minako’s laughter rang throughout the park, lighting up the area with her own sweetness. 

There was a pause. It hung in the air for a moment, a beat after her laughter had subsided. 

“You’re not a big talker, are you, Senpai?” She said gently. 

“I like listening.” He shrugged. “Especially when it’s you.”

“It’s not always easy to talk to a wall,” she poked at him, grinning. “I’m kidding. Probably.”

Was she blushing?

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who stuck around.” Shinjiro huffed back. 

She took a stab at her ice cream cone, grumbling. “Yeah, well, well, well…”

Their conversation melted into the night, eventually turning to dust in their shared nervousness. It died like a fire, leaving glowing sparks in the dark sky as they slowly ran out of things to say.

“We should head home,” Shinjiro whispered hoarsely. 

“Yeah.” Minako nodded, her voice heavy with sleep. 

“C’mon, don’t fall asleep just yet.” he laughed gently. 

“Can you carry me, Senpai?”

“...what?” He blinked.

“Can you carry me, Senpai?” She repeated, looking to him with her best puppy eyes.

“Well, I…” He looked to her again, biting his lip. “...sure, but only for a little bit.” 

“Yay!” She hummed, forgetting her fatigue as she climbed onto his back. “Onward, Shinji-sen-STEED!”

He prayed that none of his friends were out and about. 

By the time they got back to the dorms, Shinjiro was pretty sure he was going to pass out. First Miki’s death, then all the other shit, and now this? He couldn’t take it. 

He loved it, of course. But his back didn’t. 

“Get off. I’m not walking in with you on my back.” He sighed, wondering how he was able to do that the first time to even create this memory.

“Awww…” Minako whined, but she complied, sliding off his back with an overdramatic grunt.

He just shook his head, pushing on the door into another scene. 

The sky had darkened into an inky black as he stepped inside to see Minako, who had seemingly teleported, on the couch alone.

“Oh, Shinjiro-senpai,” her face lit up. “It’s good to see you. Would you like to go somewhere?”

It took him a moment to find his words. “No, let’s just stay here and talk.” Shinjiro said, an air of sadness hanging over him. “No need to go out again.”

“Okay,” she responded, smiling as she gestured to a spot beside her on the couch. “Then let’s just talk.” 

He nodded and sat next to her, feeling her warmth illuminate his dead body as he did so. He wanted to put an arm around her, but his puppet refused, putting up an inch of dead air between them.

“So, Senpai, what do you wanna talk about?”

“Anything, school, friends, whatever…” Shinjiro responded. “As long as it makes you happy.” 

“What’s your favorite animal, Senpai?” She said abruptly. 

“Huh? Why are you asking me?” 

“Because you make me happy.” 

Because you make me happy, he thought. It echoed in his head, over and over and over and over… 

Because you make me happy too, he finally remembered. 

He remembered now. Her name was Minako Arisato.

And he was in love with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a huge thank you to my dear friend Tome here on archive, they're literally an angel who helped me edit this monster together. and a huge thank you to YOU for reading!


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